Tequila & Tea Bags (27 page)

God just the memory of him touching me sends a fresh sting of pain to my heart. I’ll never feel him again. I really don’t know how I’m going to break it to Lulu.

‘Well, let’s just say that the brothers were made for us.’ She winks cheekily.

‘He made you come!’ I can't help myself shouting. ‘
He’s
the guy!’

No
way!

‘Yes,’ she nods, her cheeks flushed. Just saying the word come is making her blush. How did she go out with James? ‘And I know I won't
ever
again. Not with anyone else, so what’s the point? And it’s like my mum always said, be with a man that ruins your lipstick, not your mascara.’

‘Don’t be stupid, Els!’ I shout. ‘Will has clearly dumped my arse, but I’m not going to give up sex and join a convent!’

‘It's complicated,’ she shrugs, dismissing me completely.

Yeah. I’m a slut and she’s not. God, I hate myself.

‘All I’m saying is that you should really think it through. It’s giving up your whole life for the church. It's a
big
deal. It's your
life
.’ I really can't stress this enough.

‘I know,’ she nods, her forehead creased in thought. ‘But you need to do the same.’

‘Huh?’

I
really
hope she’s not planning on giving me a lecture right now. I’m too emotionally drained.

‘You need to work out what you want from life.’

‘Understatement of the year,’ I snort.

***

Two hours later, Elsie’s tucked me in her duvet with popcorn and a chick flick. The door knocks and I get up quickly, hopping to it, in the desperate hope that it might be Will. He might have changed his mind. I swing it back to reveal…my mum and dad. What the hell are they doing here?

They look just as shocked to see me. ‘Rose? You’re home?’

Oh crap. Elsie must have phoned them when I did a runner. Great, they’re here to lecture me. Couldn’t this have been done in a phone call?

I look back to Elsie. ‘I’m so sorry! I forgot to call you,’ she explains. ‘It’s all sorted now.’

‘Is it really?’ dad asks dubiously, pushing his glasses up his nose. ‘Because Elsie sounded pretty frantic on the phone.’

Elsie grimaces apologetically. ‘How about I make us all a brew to apologise?’

Dad follows her into the kitchen, no doubt to talk about me while I flop myself back down on the sofa. Well this is all I need. Mum and dad here to join the
beat Rose down
party.

‘So…’ I should attempt some small talk, ‘how’ve you been?’

This is far more awkward than a normal mother/daughter reunion.

‘I’m sorry, Rose,’ mum says, looking off into the distance. It’s so quiet that I wonder whether I might have imagined it. Or she’s sleepwalking. ‘I’m sorry for being a bad mother.’

Where the hell did this come from? Apologising to me? Well this is awkward. What the hell am I supposed to say to this?

‘Err…you weren’t…’ 

Should I lie? She looks so sad and pathetic sitting there twiddling her hair nervously. I don’t relish the thought of kicking someone while they’re down. I should know. I can't get much lower right now.

She sighs and takes my hand. It feels so foreign for us to be holding hands. They’re so cold.

‘I just…I don’t think I was made to be a mother.’ She rubs her face wearily. ‘I thought it would come easy to me, but…it never happened.’

Wow, that was honest. How can she admit this? How can she admit that she looked into her new-born daughter’s eyes and felt no love? I’ve always known she was fairly indifferent towards me, but to hear it out loud, to hear her omission, it hurts more than I thought it would.

‘The thing is,’ she looks at me, catching my eyes, ‘I do…you know.’ She nods, like she's sure I know what she's talking about. The truth is that I don’t. ‘I’m proud of you.’

Proud of me? What a joke.

‘You just never loved me,’ I snap, throwing her hand away, as the bitterness rises in my throat.

‘Of course I did,’ she protests, wiping at her dry eyes with a tissue.

How
dare
she act annoyed. Next thing she’ll be telling me she has one of her headaches.

‘You can't even say it, Mum,’ I scoff, seething internally.

I don’t know why she’s wasting her time saying all this, if she still can't tell me she loves me. It’s such a simple, basic requirement for a mother to love her daughter.

‘I know and I’m sorry,’ she nods. ‘I worry every day that my actions led you to behave how you have.’

Behave how I have?

‘What?’

God, she’s so annoying. Where the hell is all of this coming from? Her mothering skills had nothing to do with how I am as a person. She was always at work. And I’m not a bad person. I refuse to apologise for who I am.

‘Sleeping around. Looking for love everywhere. Looking for acceptance.’

My mouth drops open in shock. Jesus, just say it like you see it, Mother. This is
so
cringe worthy. My own mother talking about me being a slut. It’s not like I ever brought anyone home.

‘I should have tried harder, but I was selfish,’ she continues. ‘I threw myself into work. It’s the only thing I’ve ever done that comes naturally to me.’

That’s enough for me to see red. Fucking bright, vibrant, angry as fuck red.

‘You’re a GP! Your job is caring for people!’ I scream, my heart beat quickening. I’m in the mood for a confrontation.

How can she not care for her own daughter?

‘You say that like I don’t care for you,’ she answers calmly. ‘I do, Rose. I love you.’ She seems sincere, but embarrassed.

She
does
love me? An unnamed emotion brews in my throat. I suppose on some level I know it’s true. Though it wouldn’t hurt her to tell me every now and again.

‘Do you know that’s the first time you’ve ever told me?’ I ask, my voice breaking slightly.

She takes my hand again, smiling tiredly. ‘Like I said, I’m sorry. I know I have no right to be, but I’m proud of you.’

‘Proud of what?’

‘You’ve made a life for yourself here. Elsie says you’re very well thought of by everyone.’

‘Thanks,’ I guffaw. She obviously spoke to her a few days ago. Today no one thinks highly of me.

But it does actually mean a lot. But then, how can she say she’s proud of me when Elsie’s told them I stole her money and planned on going to Mexico? It makes no sense.

Dad and Elsie walk in, holding mugs of tea and bourbons, which they share around.

‘So,’ dad begins, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. ‘Elsie rang and told us you were considering returning home. Do you still want that?’

I look at Elsie questionably. She never told them I stole her money? She covered for me? She winks, which could mean anything.

‘Um…’  My head is imploding right now.

‘Because me and your mother have decided that we’d be okay with that.’ He dunks a bourbon in his tea as if to avoid eye contact.

Huh? They want me back? What the hell has Elsie told them?

He smiles at me tenderly. ‘Elsie’s told us about how far you’ve come since coming here. The charity work, the making new friends. To be honest, I found it hard to believe. But being here, seeing you; I realise it’s true. You even look different.’

That’s what a sprained ankle and twenty four hours of crying will do to a person.

‘Really?’

‘Your skins glowing,’ he smiles. ‘I can see you’re happy here.’

It feels so weird making them happy for once. It’s even…dare I say it…nice.

‘Thanks. And thanks for the offer.’ I look over at Elsie, who looks a bit afraid. I smile warmly at her. ‘But I’m more than happy here.’

She smiles back and I know I’m still wanted. My heart warms. I might not have friends, but I’ll always have family.

Wednesday 19
th
November

Dear Betty,

Sorry I haven’t been in to see you for a while, but a lot of
shit went down
stuff has happened. I don’t know if Will’s told you, but he’s dumped me. Not just dumped me, but I’m pretty sure he despises me now. I’ve done so much stupid
shit
stuff, it's honestly no wonder. I hate myself. He’s not answering my calls and he ignores me if I’m walking down the street. He’s made it pretty clear that he doesn’t want to see me. It breaks my heart.

I’m still seeing Mitsy every day. She’s keeping me busy, but I’ve begged Clare to tell Will someone else is looking after her. If he knew I still was he’d probably stop me. That would really break me.

The only person who seems on my side is Elsie and I have no idea why. Maybe she should be a nun; she’s so bloody selfless. She’s told me not to tell anyone, but I stole her money and almost used it to go to Mexico. I came back, but it was too late. I’ve hurt Will, and now I don’t even get to see you. Its
shit crap
rubbish. I should have gotten on that plane while I had the chance.

Anyway, I hope you write back. I miss you.

Rose xxx

Thursday 20
th
November

‘You need some fresh air,’ Elsie says as she forces my coat onto my shoulders. ‘It’ll be good for you.’

‘Where the hell am I gonna go?’ I plead. The whole bloody village hates me and I know Lauren’s working today.

‘Don’t care,’ she shrugs, smiling. ‘Here, take my iPod. This will be good for you, I promise.’

I’ve barely opened my mouth to protest again before I’m shoved outside, with the front door slammed in my face. Well, this is mean. What the hell am I going to do with myself?

I start walking, thankfully no longer needing the crutches, zipping my coat up as I go. The temperatures really dropped today. I swear the countryside is colder. Probably all that pollution back home keeping me warm. I crunch the brown autumn leaves under my boots, deciding to go to the park. I can sit on a swing or something, like a
real
loser.

I finally reach it, but find Noah and a friend on them. Lauren’s not there, thank God, but the other kid’s mum recognises me and waves over. I wave back, but carry on walking. I’m in no mood for small talk.

Where the hell am I going to go now? Next to the park is the graveyard. I might as well take a walk through it. It occurs to me that Will’s mum must be buried here. I’d never considered that before.

I walk slowly along the grave stones, discretely trying to read them. I don’t want to look like some weirdo reading everyone’s graves. I’m just about to give up when I spot it. She’s buried in the back corner of the plot under a willow tree. I bend down to read it properly.

Here lays Cynthia Diane Buckley

Proud Wife, Mother and Daughter

Loved by all who knew her

RIP Angel

I don’t doubt that she was loved by everyone. Most of these graves are covered with moss and overgrowing grass. This one has been smartened up and there’s a bunch of orange roses laid next to it. They’re beginning to die, but it’s still lovely. I take a quick look at the note attached to it.

Love you Mum. Will x

My throat thickens with emotion. He must still bring her flowers.

A tear falls down my cheek for Will, the broken little boy who’s mum died. I wonder if he talks to her. He must do. About me? I dread to think what she’s heard. Maybe I should clear some things up.

I clear my throat. ‘Er, hi, Cynthia. I’m Rose. You’ve probably been hearing a lot of bad things about me. I’d love to say it’s all lies, but unfortunately they’re not.’ I laugh, my voice strained. ‘But the one thing that is true is that I need Will in my life. He just…he makes things better. He even makes me better. Do you think you could talk to him about forgiving me?’ I wait patiently.

Nothing. Not so much as a cold breeze or leaf falling onto her headstone. Well how on earth am I supposed to tell if she heard me? Oh God, I’m talking to a headstone. I’m not even sure I believe in this stuff.

‘Morning, Rose.’

I jump round into karate stance, my body on high alert, to find the vicar smiling kindly at me.

Well this must look strange. He caught me chatting to Will’s mum’s headstone. And now I’m trying to karate chop him. But then, I suppose he does pray to a man in the sky. Hardly one to judge me.

‘Er…hi.’ I lower my arms and put them behind my back.

‘Elsie said you might be at a loose end this morning,’ he smiles, sipping a mug of tea that says ‘Jesus is my homeboy’.

Of
course
she did. Annoying little meddler. I wouldn’t be surprised if she set this whole thing up.

‘I was wondering if you fancied mowing the lawn?’

I look around at the high grass and unmanageable weeds. Is he
serious?

‘Don’t you have a gardener or something?’ I ask in barely hidden disbelief.

He locks eyes with me, sending a chill down my spine.

‘Afraid not,’ he grimaces, shaking his head. ‘But if you’re feeling lost sometimes doing a selfless act can help to heal the soul.’

Oh Jesus, he’s going to get the bible out in a minute and start preaching.

Step away from the devil, child. THE BODY OF CHRIST COMPELS YOU!

‘Okay,’ I nod, completely unenthused. At least this way he’ll leave me alone.

‘Marvellous news,’ he beams. Probably can't wait to report back to Elsie. ‘You’ll find the mower in the shed.’

***

After wrestling the mower out of the shed and finding an extension lead long enough, I’m finally mowing. It’s strangely satisfying to do such a simple job. Seeing the grass come out fresher and cleaner looking is soothing. Plus I’ve got Elsie’s iPod on, blasting out some Missy Elliot. I’m surprised she’s got her on here.

I’m bopping away, sashaying my hips in time to the music, when I feel a hand on my shoulder. I jump, throw the hand off and try to turn around to face my attacker. Only the lead gets twisted round my foot and before I know it, I’m losing my balance and falling to my right. A hard, intense black pain takes over my head before it goes dark.

I open my heavy eyes, my head banging so bad I can barely focus on the person hovering over me.

‘Rose? Rose, speak to me.’

I focus in on his features and realise its James. James? What happened?

‘Are you okay?’ he asks, concert etched into his voice.

Just embarrassed that I’m such a clumsy bitch.

‘Yeah, I’m fine.’ I roll onto my side, attempting to sit myself up when a roll of nausea hits me. I vomit weakly into the grass, my stomach making sure to retch up my entire breakfast.

‘Shit, Rose,’ I hear, feeling cold hands on my shoulders. ‘That’s it; I’m taking you to hospital.’

The stream of vomit stops enough for me to catch my breath.

‘I’m fine.’ I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. I feel anything but.

He grins, his eyebrows raised sarcastically. ‘Humour me.’

***

It turned out I’d gashed my head open quite badly, but luckily not badly enough to need stitches. My hair seems to cover it, which will be good once I can rinse out the dried blood. Right now I look like a zombie. I’m under strict orders to rest up and take it easy. See, Elsie, this is what happens when you force someone outside.

We pull into the village, the sky now dark even though its only 7pm.

‘I’ll walk you in,’ James says, as he pulls over the car.

Bless him. He’s been an angel. Holding my hand, even when I insisted I didn’t need it. Apparently he and Will take it in turns to bring roses to their mum’s grave. How sweet is that? She might have only been able to raise them for a short time, but what she did, she did right. Maybe this is her weird way of sending me a sign not to give up on Will. She must have a sick sense of humour.

I let him lead me from his car, treating me as if I’m made of glass.

‘So,’ he says when we reach the door. ‘When are you going to talk to Will?’

I roll my eyes. ‘When are you going to talk to Elsie?’

He grins. ‘Touché. But seriously, I’m sorry if I fucked things up for you. For what it’s worth, I can tell he’s mad about you. He’s got the same look on his face as when he used to watch Fun House.’

‘Fun House?’ I snort.

‘The twins,’ he grins. ‘The very sexy twins.’

I laugh, glad he’s broken the tension. ‘Well anyway, thank you.’

‘For what? Causing the accident?’ he grimaces.  

‘No, for looking after me.’

‘No worries,’ he smiles genuinely. ‘But I meant what I said. Speak to Will.’

‘Thanks. I will.’

I lean in to give him a quick hug. I feel like I need it after the shitter of a day. He hugs me back, rubbing my back reassuringly. It’s nothing but friendship and it feels nice. I could really do with a friend right now. Really, when you look at it, James and I are very similar.

I lean back, ready to get my keys, when I spot him. Will. He’s stood in the middle of the road, his face venomous. Why is he so angry?

I think to what he must have seen. Me and James hugging. Could he have mistaken friendliness for passion?

‘Will…’  What the hell can I say so that he sees this for the innocence it is?

He locks his eyes with mine, a glare so cold it turns my heart to ice.

He shakes his head. ‘Screw you both.’

Friday 21
st
November

The next morning I wake up determined to try and win Will back, regardless of how long it takes me. I mean, this whole thing is based on a stupid miss-understanding. Well, the whole stealing Elsie’s money thing was probably straight forward, but…well, I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. He did tell me he loved me. Unless that was a lie, why wouldn’t he at least try to forgive me?

I pull the hood of my jacket up and brace myself for the rain. I walk through the drizzly village at lunch time. I’m sure everyone’s eyes are already on me anyway. Judging me. I’ve felt like this since the accident, although Elsie assures me it’s my imagination.

I knock on his front door and jump impatiently from foot to foot, while I wait for an answer. The door opens and I see my poor dishevelled Will. He’s got more stubble than normal and his green eyes seem smaller, like he hasn’t slept in days.

‘Will,’ I breathe. It almost sounds like a prayer.

I’ve barely got his name out, before his face contorts in rage and he slams the door in my face. Well, that was mean.

I swallow down the bile and knock again, this time a bit more frantically. He swings the door back open, leaning on it arrogantly.

‘What do you want, Rose?’ He sounds so despondent.

‘I want to talk. Want to explain,’ I plead, putting my hands up in prayer. I’ll get down on my knees if I have to.

‘There’s nothing to explain. I understand fully,’ he says curtly. Coldly.

I look into the house. The house I felt so comfortable in only a week ago. ‘Can I come in?’

‘No.’ He stands still, as if he has no shame in denying me entry. I thought his politeness would have taken over by now. ‘But we can talk out here.’ He grabs his coat and walks out into the street.

I follow after him like a lost puppy.

‘Please, Will. You have to understand that I was never with James while we were together! It was way before that. It was before I even knew you. What you saw last night was just a friendly hug.’

He whips his head back in annoyance. ‘You don’t get it, do you?’ he spits, his jaw tight. ‘He had his dick inside you,’ he hisses.

I retract as if he’s hit me.

‘He caressed your skin;
my
skin. It sickens me.’ He runs his hand through his hair. ‘Don’t you get that? I can't get the idea of you two out of my head.’

Wow. He’s
never
going to forgive me. The realisation hits me like a fat woman in a hurry.

‘I’m…I’m sorry,’ I blub, tears running freely down my face. I’ve ruined everything.

‘But that’s not even the worst of it,’ he continues with disdain. ‘To think that everything we had was fake. Just a fucking rouse to get more shifts at the home. So you could fuck off and go to Mexico. No wonder you wanted to shag so quick. All the talking too much, was it? Did I bore you?’

‘No! Will, you never bore me. I want you back,’ I beg, my voice weak and pathetic.

‘Oh
really
?’ he mocks. ‘Is that your decision
this
week? How long until you change your little fickle mind again?’

His words are like acid. I thought he loved me. No one who loved me could treat you like this.

‘Please, Will. Don’t be so horrible.’

‘Then tell me it’s not true,’ he challenges.